Never Alone
by Heart's Whisper
Summary: A small elfling's home is destroyed by orcs. She struggles to find a family and a sense of purpose when an elven king offers her a home. Will she find the strength to continue her shattered life or will she succumb to her grief and be lost forever?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing… Everything belongs to Tolkien… unfortunately. (sighs)

A/N: I was only going to have this story be a one shot but then my muse started to take over. So, if anybody wants me to continue this story please let me know. Comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are welcome. Flames are not.

**Prologue**

An elfling skipped toward the village she called home on the outskirts of Mirkwood forest. Her midnight black hair streamed behind her as she glanced at the bouquet of wild flowers in her small hand and thought gleefully of how happy her mother would be when she brought them home. She could just see the looks on her parent's faces when she would skip through the door.

In her mind's eye she saw her father say, "Well, well. Just look at what my sweet little elfling has brought me! Why, these flowers are absolutely beautiful!" And then he would say with his blue eyes twinkling merrily, "But they are not as gorgeous as _my_ daughter."

She could imagine her mother saying in her singsong voice, "Those are very beautiful sweetling. I shall put them on the table immediately." The elfling willed her small legs to move faster, childishly excited about being embraced by her parents again.

As she neared her village however, a strange stench filled the air. 'Smoke?' The child thought as she saw a tall plume of dark cloud drift forebodingly into the air. She approached the outer most edges of her village as sounds reached her delicate ears. Screams…so many screams. The child dared to move closer and stood just inside the dense cover the forest around her provided.

Her eyes saw the scene in front of her but her mind would not… _could _not process what she was seeing. Elven bodies littered the ground in bloody heaps. Homes were burning. But what her blue eyes remained fixed on were the ugly black monsters that killed anything and everything in their paths.

The bouquet, now forgotten dropped from her numb fingers. One thing kept repeating itself in her mind like a mantra. 'Not Ada. Not Naneth. No, no, no…'

The child hid her small form in the undergrowth and circled around the village to where her home was located. Remembering her father's lessons about being safer in the trees than it was on the ground, she quickly climbed into the nearest tree. What she saw made her heart stop. The monsters were surrounding her home. Some of them had already managed to get to her door and were attempting to knock it down.

The elfling watched in utter horror as three of the creatures began to storm into her house. One of them dropped immediately, an arrow imbedded in its head. The other two fell quickly as her father charged out the door, his twin blades flashing in the dying light. The child's mother came out directly behind her husband, firing off arrows so fluidly that the bow seemed to be an extension of her arm.

The elfling realized with a jolt that her parents were out numbered by far. For every monster that fell two more charged at her parents. They were surrounded by the black demons that screeched their fury at the two fighting elves.

What the child saw next would haunt her dreams for the rest of her long life.

Her mother was shot twice from behind. She jerked as the arrows sliced through bone and flesh. The child watched helplessly in her perch as her mother fell to her knees, seemingly in slow motion. One of the hideous monsters came forward with a sickening smile on its face. It sneered at the fear in the she-elf's eyes and then brutally slit her throat. The creatures roared triumphantly as the elf's life-blood spilled onto the ground.

Tears flowed freely from the child's eyes as her father let loose a cry so filled with anger and grief that it sent chills down his daughter's spine.

Her father's blades moved with impossible speed as he immediately cut down the monster that had so mercilessly killed his wife.

But suddenly he wasn't just fighting one of the ugly creatures anymore. He wasn't even fighting two. He was fighting four… and he was losing. His sword swung wildly, barely keeping his attackers at bay. So great was his concentration on the four he was fighting that he did not realize that a fifth creature had come up behind him.

His daughter, however, watched the scene unfold below her with terror in her heart. The black monster smiled with pure malice and ran her father through from behind. Her father gasped, gazing down at the blade that protruded from his chest in pure shock. He choked and sputtered and, very slowly, fell to his knees. The monsters, apparently satisfied that their prey was dead, moved on to find another victim to unleash their fury upon.

The elven child let forth a whimper and amazingly, her father seemed to have heard it. He looked up into the tree that his child crouched in. He tried to smile, and ever so slowly, he lifted two of his bloodstained fingers to his lips and extended them to her.

And so it was that the last sight that the elf – a proud warrior, a loving father, and a courageous creature- saw, was his beloved daughter, two fingers pressed to her lips and reaching out to him. The elf then closed his eyes… and breathed his last.

It was still several hours before the hideous creatures decided that their work was finished and took leave of what once was a bustling elvish village. They left behind a bloody slaughter and no survivors. Or so they thought.

One child numbly sat in a tall birch and waited until the last of the monsters had left. Then she painstakingly climbed down from the tree, her muscles screaming in protest at the sudden movement after having stayed immobile for so long. The child silently crept over to where her parents lay slain. Tears made tracks down her dirty cheeks as she looked down at what was left of her parents.

The elfling knelt down next to her father and clutched at his bloody hands.

"Ada, do not leave me here alone."

No reply.

"Saes Ada!" The child pleaded desperately. "You said you would always be here for me! You promised!" Her small hands pounded desperately on his lifeless chest. "You promised." She repeated weakly.

The child then crawled over to where her mother lay dead. "You told me that elves are immortal! We are not supposed to die!" She accused bitterly. "I'm not supposed to grow up without you." She said as tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. Her small hands slowly caressed her mother's pale face.

And it was then that the small child snapped. She screamed and wailed for her parents to come back. She called them liars for telling her that they would always be there for her. She screamed for them to take her with them, that she would die here on her own. The little elfling sat down next to the lifeless corpses that were her parents and cried until she had no tears left.

A soft wind swept through the clearing then, caressing the child's tear stained face. It kissed her hands that were full of her parent's blood. It gently lifted her tangled black hair to softly touch the back of her neck.

A whisper filled her leaf shaped ears then. "Never alone." It said. "Never alone."

**A/N**: So? Likes? Dislikes? Suggestions? Please leave me a review and tell me what you think. Oh and I'll be the first to admit that I am no Tolkien expert so if my small usage of elvish was wrong please let me know. I'd really appreciate it.

Thanks!

Heart's Whisper


	2. The Survivor

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. (sighs) Bummer…

A/N: Yay! Three reviews! I'm so excited. Thank you all so much. Your comments and suggestions are very much appreciated.

**Chapter 1: **

Tathlogar urged his horse into a quick trot, worried about the reports the scouts had returned with. They'd informed him that his patrol was too late. The small village on Mirkwood's boarders had been completely destroyed and the orcs had left no survivors.

He sighed. This had been the third attack on the kingdom's boarders in the past two months. The King would have to either send patrols to reinforce the villages or evacuate them completely.

Tathlogar's musings were interrupted when Mythiall cantered up next to him. "We approach the village soon." He paused as his nostrils flared slightly. "I can already smell the smoke."

"It is going to be a grim day indeed Mythiall. You are sure that there were no survivors?" Tathlogar already knew the answer to this question. He'd asked Mythiall so many times that he knew the words his friend would say before they even left his mouth.

"Yes Tathlogar. I am sure. We searched and searched, hoping to find _someone_… Anyone." Mythiall eyes glazed over, remembering the horror of seeing his kin dead. "There was no one left."

The two comrades in arms traveled in silence, each contemplating their own bleak thoughts. The rest of the patrol followed silently, sensing their commander's mood.

The boarder patrol came upon the village by mid afternoon. They silently viewed the wreckage together and bowed their heads in sorrow.

One of the soldiers dropped to his knees, tears pouring down his cheeks. "I grew up here." He said to no one in particular. "I knew these elves. They were good, honest people."

"And we will give them the burial they deserve." Tathlogar said, putting his hand on the crushed elf's shoulder. "Come," he said to his men. Without another word the patrol slowly began moving through the ruins.

Tathlogar and Mythiall moved to the west side of the village. "The inhabitants of this house put up a fight." Mythiall remarked absently, glancing at a house that still stood. Orcs with arrows imbedded in their heads and necks lay sprawled in front of the door.

Tathlogar nodded absentmindedly and followed the trail of dead orcs. His grey eyes narrowed when they landed upon a she-elf still clutching a bow. She lay face down with her neck in an awkward angle and two black arrows sticking out of her back. Another elf lay dead beside her.

"Her husband, I guess." Mythiall said, following Tathlogar's line of vision. He too, had died fighting as his wife had. He lay on his back, legs and arms spread eagle and a bloody wound in the center of his chest.

Tathlogar's hands clenched into fists when his eyes landed upon a small child. She lay curled in a fetal position not two feet away from the dead elves. "Mythiall. Is it odd to you that a child would lay dead curled into herself like that?" Tathlogar questioned.

"Aye it is. But mayhap she has a side wound that made her lie so." Mythiall stated. Tathlogar grunted inaudibly as he moved forward to examine the child. He very gently stretched his hand out and rolled the small elfling over.

"She has no wounds that I can see." He remarked as he laid a tender hand on the child's chest. Tathlogar gasped as he felt it rise ever so slowly. "She breathes Mythiall!"

Mythiall quickly approached from where he stood examining the other elf corpses. "She is so pale. And cold. She needs healers quickly." He said to Tathlogar urgently.

The child moaned as her eyes flickered and her hands twitched.

"I must get her to the palace." Tathlogar said as he carefully picked the child up.

"It is three days hard ride Tathlogar, two if you ride without resting. She will not make it!" Mythiall said bitterly.

"She will if I have anything to say about it." He answered, his voice hard. Tathlogar gently lifted the small girl into his arms and strode over to where his horse stood patiently.

"I'm placing you in charge Mythiall." He raised a hand when Mythiall went to say something. "You must stay, Mythiall. I know well the dangers of this forest. I grew up in it as you did. But you will need all the help you can get in order to clean up this village. Bury the bodies and burn the orc carcasses."

"But-,"

"That is an order Mythiall." Tathlogar said icily.

"Yes sir." Mythiall said, standing at attention. Tathlogar nodded and urged his horse back into the forest.

"Ride hard, my friend!" Mythiall called to his commander's swiftly retreating back.

Tathlogar rode straight through the next two days without rest. He whispered encouraging words to his horse to have fleet feet as he felt the child in his arms grow ever colder.

"Do not fade, child." He pleaded desperately to the limp body he carried. "Do not fade."

It was dusk on the second day when finally Tathlogar reached the palace gates and his horse stopped beneath him, shuddering violently. The animal's lungs heaved as he tried to regain his breath. Tathlogar dismounted swiftly and thanked his faithful friend for caring him so far so quickly.

"You've done well, mellon nin. Thank you." Tathlogar said while he stroked his horse's face lovingly. The animal nudged his rider, silently telling him to get the fading child to the palace quickly. Tathlogar smiled and gave his horse one last pat before turning and running full tilt toward the palace gates.

"Open the gates!" He shouted when he was within hailing distance. The guards on duty immediately responded when they saw who he was. He sprinted through the skinny opening between the massive gates as soon as there was enough room and quickly headed toward the palace.

Tathlogar did not stop to answer the questioning glances elves threw his way. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him past dining halls, kitchens, up flights of stairs, past guest rooms, and finally into the healers hall.

He impatiently kicked open the doors and they clattered loudly onto the marble walls behind him.

"My lord!" A healer exclaimed, exasperated. "There is no need for such noise! We have patients here!"

"Forgive me, Healer Ansgarth, but I have a patient here who needs immediate attention." Tathlogar explained quickly.

Healer Ansgarth's eyes were still narrowed but he quickly came to examine the child in Tathlogar's arms.

"She is so young!" Ansgarth exclaimed, all annoyance gone from his countenance. "Come put her on the bed here. I will do all I can for her."

Tathlogar gently laid the child onto the bed and softly stroked her pale forehead.

"Be well, little one." He whispered as he quietly left the room.

"Valar keep her safe." Tathlogar prayed silently.

A/N: Yay! Chapter 1 finished! I don't really know what happened with the page formatting so if you guys could just ignore the random page breaks that would be awesome. And to my lovely reviewers! You guys are great. Thanks for the comments and suggestions and I hope you all like this next chapter. The next chapter will be up… I have no idea when, but I will try to update soon!

Heart's Whisper

P.S. Starlighteagle! in response to your review: Saes means please...i think. :)


	3. To Meet with a King

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything except for any character you don't recognize… and, maybe one day, Legolas. Yeah… right.

A/N: First of all, woo hoo for reviews! You guys are awesome. Thanks for the support and kind words you all have so graciously given me. Second of all, I know this chapter is short but I had to establish some key things before I could continue with everything else. So, here it is. I hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 2**

Tathlogar walked briskly toward his king's work chambers. He dreaded having to report such bleak news about the destroyed village but knew it had to be done. He steeled himself as he gave a brief nod to the two guards who stood at attention on either side of the door.

As he raised his hand to knock however, a gruff voice said behind him, "It is ill tidings that you bring to our king this morning." Tathlogar smiled slightly and turned to meet the stern green eyes of the king's bodyguard and trusted friend.

"Aye I do Githaen. The village my patrol and I were sent to was destroyed. We were too late. I came to tell the King the news."

Githean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "That is terrible news indeed. It does not bode well for the rest of our border villages."

The two warriors paused, each wondering what the King would do to repair the bleak situation.

"Is he any better this morning?" Tathlogar asked in a low voice.

"The King? He's … Well…" Githaen pursed his lips and said truthfully, "How well would you be doing if you knew that your only son and heir had gone on a quest that would probably claim his very life? Would you be able to sleep peacefully at night, knowing that there was a very good chance that you would never see your only child again? Would you be able to carry on normally each day if-" Githaen paused as the door opened abruptly behind them.

King Thranduil stepped out of his office and glanced at the two elves in front of him.

"Your Majesty." Githaen and Tathlogar said in unison, their heads bowed respectfully.

Tathlogar studied his King from under lowered lashes. To anyone who did not know Thranduil closely, they would have said that he looked just as imposing and regal as ever. To Tathlogar however, who'd grown up with Legolas as a childhood friend, the King looked… well, tired. His blue eyes that had once sparkled and were so full of life, were now dull and full of worry. He even had the faintest of dark circles under those noble eyes. His tunic collar was slightly rumpled and the golden circlet that adorned his fair head was faintly off center.

"If you are done with your examination of me, young Tathlogar, I'd like to hear your report." The King said in a slightly amused voice.

Tathlogar started, color adorning his cheeks at being caught in his assessment. 'At least he still has his keen sense of perception,' he thought silently to himself.

"Come." King Thranduil said, motioning toward his office. "Githaen, if you wish, you may listen also."

"Actually, your majesty, I was on my way to the kitchens for a late supper. If you'll excuse me." Githaen said while glancing apologetically at Tathlogar. "I shall take my leave of you."

King Thranduil nodded absently and ushered Tathlogar into his office. "I can tell by the look in your eyes that your report is not going to be pleasant. So tell me, what news have you of the village?" Thranduil asked briskly.

Tathlogar swallowed and began his tale from when he and his patrol had arrived at the village. He told his king of the utter destruction they'd found, of the horror of seeing so many elves dead. His eyes turned inward and focused on the memory of the complete ruin that the village had been in.

When he'd finished his grisly tale, Thranduil asked in a low voice, "Survivors?"

"One, your majesty. A small elfling. I found her next to her dead parents. I rode here as fast as my horse would carry me. The child was unconscious the entire time and still is. She is with the healers now."

Thranduil nodded. "Tell me when she awakes. I would very much like to speak with her."

"Yes, your majesty."

"I must think on what to do about the boarder villages." Thranduil said, more to himself than to Tathlogar. "If you will excuse me Tathlogar, I must speak to my advisors on this matter."

"Yes, your majesty." Tathlogar repeated as he stood and walked toward the door.

As his hand reached the doorknob, however, he hesitated. Hoping he was not over stepping his bounds, he turned back to his king and said in a low voice, "Do not worry overmuch about Legolas, your majesty. You trained him well. He will return to you and you will look upon him with pride for all that he will have accomplished. He loves you more than you know and will do everything in his power to come home to you one day."

Without waiting for an answer, Tathlogar opened the door and strode down the hallway, back towards the healers hall.

Unbeknownst to him, his words had pierced the heart of his king. A silent tear ran down Thranduil's cheek as he whispered. "I hope you are right, friend of my son. I hope you are right."

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A/N: Whoosh. Another chapter finished. I hope you all liked it! We will return to my OC in the next chapter, I think, so don't worry. I haven't forgotten about her! Don't forget to leave me a review! They make me feel special.


	4. Eyes of Pain

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything except for whatever you don't recognize.

A/N: Wow you guys. I can't tell you how happy I am to receive such ongoing support from everyone. I know I've only got 8 reviews (and that's nothing compared to other stories) but to me, your kind words and encouragement really help. So thank you all so much. Ok… now on to chapter three! Enjoy! P.S. Italics mean a memory.

**Chapter 3**

King Thranduil sat at his desk, looking, but not truly seeing the reports in front of him. His mind was elsewhere, focused on happier times; before his beloved wife had sailed west across the sea and his only child had gone on a quest that could very well claim his life.

_It was spring and Legolas had just learned to walk. He and his wife were sitting outside in one of the palace gardens. Legolas was between them, toddling unsteadily from parent to parent. Thranduil had looked up into his wife's sparkling blue eyes. The sunlight had caught her hair, making the blonde locks shine more brilliantly than the sun itself. She'd laughed as Legolas stumbled into her arms and giggled happily. His son then turned and walked shakily into his father's arms. 'He has his mother's smile.' Thranduil remembered thinking to himself. "Ada!" Legolas had said to his father's face._

Thranduil remembered crying that day too, but those had been different tears. Those were tears of joy, he thought bitterly, as he angrily swiped at the wetness on his cheeks. 'Get a hold of yourself! Legolas is _not _dead. He is merely on quest to save all of Middle Earth.' Thranduil smiled grimly to himself. '_That_ made me fell loads better.' He thought sarcastically.

A knock sounded at his study door. "Enter!" He called, hastily wiping the remaining tears off his cheeks. Tathlogar came in, his fair features uncharacteristically grim.

"Your majesty, it's the child. She has finally awoken." He said solemnly.

"That should be cause for great happiness, Tathlogar, not this grim face I see before me." Thranduil answered, slightly confused. "What is it that has you so distressed?"

"It is her eyes, my lord. They are filled with such pain. It is very difficult to look into them for very long without breaking down yourself."

Thranduil's own eyes narrowed in thought. "Take me to her." He commanded quietly. Tathlogar nodded and preceded him out the door.

They walked silently, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally they reached the healer's hall. Tathlogar stopped and looked uncertainly at the doors in front of them.

"You go ahead. I…I don't think I could-"

"It's alright." Thranduil interrupted, placing a gentle hand on the other elf's shoulder. "Go."

"Thank you, your majesty. It is hard to see such pain in one so young."

Thranduil smiled and nodded. "Go." He repeated.

Tathlogar glanced one last time at the doors, bowed to his king, and walked slowly down the hallway. Thranduil watched him go, puzzled as to how a warrior such as Tathlogar would be so affected by seeing a fellow elf in pain. Tathlogar was young, yes, but he was no green soldier. He'd seen his share of horrors on and off the battlefield.

Thranduil shrugged and pushed open the doors. At once the head healer, Ansgarth, came to him and bowed his head respectfully.

"Your majesty, I assume you are here to see the child that was brought in nearly a week ago." When Thranduil nodded his head affirmatively, Ansgarth led him to a bed on the far side of the hall.

"I have done everything I know how to do for her." The healer said. "She had no physical wounds on her when Tathlogar brought her in. It is her heart that needs the healing, and there are no remedies for that; except for what love others may provide for her." Ansgarth finished as he stopped beside a bed that held a small child wrapped in blankets.

The child was turned away from Thranduil on her side. All he could see of her was a mass tangled black hair. He motioned with a small flick of his hand for Ansgarth to leave the two of them alone. The healer nodded and returned to his other patients.

"Child." Thranduil called softly.

No reply.

He frowned slightly, circled around the bed, and knelt so that he was at eye level with the small elfling. Her eyes were shut tightly and her arms were wrapped firmly about herself. Thranduil reached out one hand and brushed dark hair away from her small face. At the contact, the child's eyes opened wide and pinned the King in his place.

Thranduil gasped. This small elfling's dark blue eyes spoke volumes. They showed him such anguish, such sorrow, that his own heart constricted painfully within his chest. The grief in the elfing's eyes screamed silently, pleading for someone to do something, to make everything go back to the way it once was. The pain in those eyes was so immense, the suffering so fierce, Thranduil's breath was stolen from his lungs. Her blue eyes tortured him with their agony and sent chills down his spine.

Then the small child blinked. The spell that the elfling's eyes had put him under shattered and Thranduil started.

"Oh my child," Thranduil whispered brokenly. He tentatively held his arms out to her. She looked at him questioningly for a long moment. Just when Thranduil was about to lower his arms in defeat, she sat up, looked into his eyes and launched herself into his arms. She clung to him with all the strength her small body possessed. Thranduil hugged her tiny body closer when he felt her begin to shake with silent sobs. He felt the front of his tunic begin to dampen with the child's tears.

"Shhhh. I am here child. I will not leave you." He whispered to her as he slowly rocked her back and forth.

Thranduil knew not how long the elfing cried or how long he held her until finally all her tears were spent. He just embraced her until she turned her small face up to his. The pain in her dark blue eyes was still there and it grieved Thranduil to see it, but he suspected it would take this poor child many long years to overcome her great sadness.

"What is your name child?" He asked her softly. She did not speak. "Everyone has a name. Come, will you not tell me yours?"

Again his question was only met with silence.

"Well, I shall have to give you one then." And hoping to make the sad elfling laugh, he said, "Shall I call you Lady Frog Belly?"

No answer except for the smallest wrinkling of her nose.

"No? Well then, how about Lady Pig's Feet?"

Still no reply apart from the child's lips compressing into one thin line.

Thranduil smiled slightly and thought for many moments, gazing at the small child cradled in his arms. His eyes took in her porcelain face, large haunted blue eyes, and long black hair.

"How about Talar?" He asked quietly. The elfling merely blinked and kept her gaze focused intently upon Thranduil's face. He took that as acquiescence and hugged her closer.

"Talar it is then. Welcome to Mirkwood, little Talar."

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A/N: Alright! So I've named our little elfling. I searched and searched to find an appropriate elvish name for her on the internet and couldn't find anything suitable. And then the name Talar popped into my head and I thought, 'Why not?' I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I will try updating again soon. Oh and I have a question for you guys who are reading this: How long was Legolas traveling with the Fellowship? I need to know for the story.

Thanks for reading!

Heart's Whisper


	5. Settling In

**Disclaimer:** You all know the drill. I don't own anything except Talar and all the other characters you don't recognize.

A/N: Hey thanks so much for the encouraging reviews guys! I REALLY appreciate them. Sorry this took longer to post than my other chapters. I don't know why, but this one was harder to write for me, and didn't come as naturally. Oh well…(sighs with frustration) I hope you guys like this chapter anyways.

**Chapter 4**

Thranduil was kept very busy throughout the next weeks, his days filled with scouting reports, orc sightings, and all manner of things. But somehow he always managed to slip away from his duties for at least a few hours each day to visit Talar. She still had not spoken a single word to any one, but Thranduil was not discouraged. Her expressive blue eyes spoke for her.

During the first few days of Talar's stay, Thranduil had decided that the healer's hall was no place for a small child. She needed a room that was her own. A room filled with toys, dolls and other such things that all elflings delighted in.

Thranduil had thought for many long hours on where would be the best place for her. One day, as he'd been wandering his palace's numerous halls, the solution came to him. 'Of course!' He'd thought silently to himself. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Legolas's old room would be perfect. It had been one of the handful of rooms in the palace that had a window overlooking a small garden with a stream running through it.

'Talar will love it.' Thranduil thought happily to himself. He'd set about right away, ordering for the room to be cleaned and aired. The sheets on the bed were changed, shelves were dusted, floors were cleaned, and small trinkets for Talar were hastily made by various elven carpenters.

It had been two weeks since Thranduil had come up with the idea of giving Talar the room, and he now stood inspecting it critically. The room had been decorated in various shades of green and crème, a small table stood to the left of the bed, a newly polished candelabra on its surface. A shelf stood directly across from the doorway, its contents filled with various books, toys, and many other small gifts from Mirkwood elves. There was another door next to the bed that led into a small bath chamber. Lastly, there was a newly carved wardrobe filled to bursting with beautiful little dresses in every color. Thranduil smiled, pleased with the newly refurbished room he gazed upon.

'I hope Talar likes her new home.' Thranduil thought silently to himself as he headed, once again, towards the healers hall.

Thranduil walked quietly through the doors that led to the healer's hall. Many of the elves looked up at his entrance and merely bowed their heads in greeting. Thranduil smiled and continued toward Talar's bed.

"Hello, little one." Thranduil said softly to the small elfling curled on her side.

Talar fixed her intense blue gaze on him.

"I have a surprise for you. Would you like to come and see it?" He asked in a hopeful tone.

The child blinked slowly and sat up. Thranduil smiled. Talar may not have spoken yet, but Thranduil had learned over the past few weeks to read her body language.

Talar slowly climbed down from her bed and peered up at him. "Come with me, Talar. I think you will enjoy this surprise." Thranduil began walking out the door and started when he felt a tiny hand grab onto his. He looked down to find Talar's porcelain face staring up at him. Thranduil smiled at her, his heart lifting to be trusted by this child that had had her life changed in such a short amount of time.

Healer Ansgarth glanced up as his king left the healer's hall, startled to find that the small elfling, Talar, accompanied him. Ansgarth allowed a small smile to grace his normally stern features. King Thranduil needed that child almost as much as that child needed him. Thranduil had been wasting away with worry for his only son, who'd been gone for almost five months. This child had diverted his King's thoughts and therefore Thranduil had not been worried and distracted as much lately. Ansgarth grinned to himself. It was good to see a genuine smile on his King's face once more.

While Ansgarth had been musing to himself, Thranduil had led Talar to the door of her new room. Talar looked questioningly up at him.

"Well go on, little one. Open the door." Thranduil said encouragingly.

Talar glanced at the door, up at Thranduil, then back at the door again. She tentatively stretched one hand out and grasped the door handle. As she opened the door she slowly let go of her vice-like grip on Thranduil's hand.

Thranduil watched silently as Talar slowly stepped into her new room. She walked to the bed and ran her hands over the crème sheets. She stepped over to the nightstand and lightly touched the silver candelabra on its polished surface. She ran her bare feet over the plush rugs on the floor as she inspected each and every item in the room. As Talar scrutinized the wardrobe full of dresses, a shadow of a smile crossed her sad face. She walked slowly into the bathing chamber and ran her eyes over the beautiful bath and scented oils lined up next to it.

Talar walked back into the main room and climbed up onto the bed. She grabbed onto a doll that had been made for her and hugged it close. She turned her midnight blue gaze to Thranduil and her lips turned slightly upwards. Thranduil released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. She liked it.

"I have one more surprise for you little Talar." Thranduil said as he walked over to a shelf that held many different things on it. He reached up to the top shelf and grabbed a worn book resting there. "Do you like to read little one?" He asked.

Talar blinked slowly.

"Good. This was my son's favorite book when he was your age." Thranduil said, handing the book to her. She reached out and took it from him, glancing at the title as she did.

"It is called, I'll Love You Forever." He said fondly, eyes glazing over in memory.

Talar ran her fingers over the cover and then held it up to Thranduil, eyes questioning.

"You want me to read it to you?" Thranduil asked.

Talar blinked slowly and moved over so that Thranduil had room to sit on the bed with her.

Thranduil smiled and read the tale that had lulled his son to sleep on many nights. When he'd finished, he glanced down at Talar and was not surprised to find her asleep also. She looked different while she slept. She looked peaceful and serene.

Thranduil lightly ran his fingers over her cheek and sang the song from the story over again.

"I'll love you forever,

I'll like you for always,

As long as I'm living,

My baby you'll be."

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A/N: Sorry that took me forever to update guys! And the book I'll Love You Forever is an actual story that my mom used to read to me all the time when I was little. It was my favorite story ever. I hope you guys liked this chapter.

Thanks for reading,

Heart's Whisper


	6. Nightmares, Routines, and Attacks

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything except for Talar. If you want to use her, please ask me first.

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry it has taken me a while to update this story, but I've been busy with work and school is starting tomorrow (takes out handkerchief and blows nose profusely), so updates will be coming in a little slower in than usual. Anyway, without further adieu, chapter 5. Enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

She was dreaming. She _knew_ she was dreaming. But it felt so real. Haunting images filled her dreams as she tossed and turned on her bed. She saw her parents dying over and over again. She saw hideous black monsters smiling cruelly as they burned her village to the ground. She watched helplessly as childhood friends died by black blades and poisoned arrows.

When Talar finally managed to break free from her dreams she sat up with a start. Silent tears poured down her cheeks as she laid a small hand over her pounding heart. She shook violently for a few moments, hugging her knees to her chest. Her dark blue eyes glanced out the small window to gaze at the comforting view of the stars outside. In that moment she missed her parents so fiercely that she thought her heart would burst. She wanted to hear her mother's musical laughter as she cooked in the kitchen. She wanted to listen to her father as he told her stories of his childhood. She wanted desperately to feel her parent's arms around her, holding her close. A new torrent of tears ran down her cheeks as she thought of all the things she had lost.

'_But what of the things you have gained?' _A voice in her head asked.

Talar thought of the elf with the pretty blond hair and kind eyes. He had been good to her. 'I'll never leave you.' He'd said.

Coming to a decision to find the nice elf, Talar slipped from her bed. She walked on silent feet into the hallway outside her room. She glanced down the empty halls, trying not to let her imagination run wild with frightening images. Shivering slightly, she quickly walked through the stone passages. She walked and walked, tears threatening to spill again when she feared she had gotten herself lost. She started to run blindly, her bare feet slapping quietly on the cold stone tiles. Finally, she approached two large doors with light streaming out under them. Hoping her nice elf was inside, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her and fairly flew threw the doors.

Startled, Thranduil looked up from the scouting reports he'd been reading. His gaze landed on a very disheveled and frightened Talar. She looked up at him with large, terrified eyes, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

"Talar!" Thranduil said, standing up. "What is it child? Is everything alright?" He walked over and knelt so he was at eye level with her. He took in her tear filled eyes, rumpled nightgown, and clenched fists.

"It was a nightmare, wasn't it child." He asked gently.

She blinked slowly at him and threw herself into his arms. Thranduil found himself getting used to her unexpected embraces and wrapped his arms about her.

"It's alright child. It was only a dream. Nothing can harm you. I am here. I will not leave you."

'_There it is again.' _That voice in Talar's head told her. _'Those words. _I will not leave you._' _Talar let herself relax into the other elf's embrace.

Thranduil stroked her dark hair and smiled slightly when her felt Talar sag against him.

And so began the routine of many nights to come; Talar would wake in the middle of the night from a horrific nightmare, she would run through the halls and into Thranduil's embrace. He would calm her, and when she had fallen asleep in his arms he would carry her back to bed. Talar would wake in the mornings safely in the rooms Thranduil had given her and sit at the window looking out at the trees and listening to the stream outside. Thranduil would find her sitting there every morning and then he let her come with him on whatever duties he had to perform during the day. It became a normal sight to see the King walking about the palace with little Talar following at his heels or clutching at his hands.

It was on one such morning that their routine changed drastically.

It started out as any other normal day. Thranduil came to Talar's room to find her sitting in her normal seat at the window. She had dressed herself in one of the many dresses that hung in her wardrobe. The dress was blue in color and it matched her eyes perfectly. Thranduil smiled when he saw her. She would be breathtakingly beautiful some day.

"Come little one." Thranduil said, holding out a hand for her to take. "You've read all the books on your own shelves. Would you like to have a look at the library?"

Talar blinked slowly at him and grabbed his hand, fairly dragging him out of her rooms and into the hall. She looked up at him questioningly, as if telling him to hurry up.

Thranduil chuckled softly and led her down various hallways and staircases until they both stood in front of huge oak doors covered with beautiful carvings. Talar stood in awe for a moment and ran her hands over the doors. Carved into the wood were pictures of what Greenwood the Great had once looked like. Regal trees formed a glorious forest that housed all manner of living creatures.

Thranduil stood looking at the doors for a few moments. It was hard for him to look at them for very long. He reached up and touched the doors, running his hands over them.

"My forest was once a very beautiful place Talar." Thranduil's eyes turned inward, focused on some long forgotten memory. "It was not always dark and foreboding. Villages were never under attack, elves did not live in fear. Light used to fill this forest." He said sadly.

Talar looked up at Thranduil's eyes. His light blue orbs were no longer filled with light either. They were as dark as the sky at night; and they were filled with pain and regret. Talar slowly reached up and took one of Thranduil's large hands into both of her small ones.

Thranduil jerked out of his dark thoughts and looked down at the little elf at his feet. His eyes widened when they landed on Talar's face. She was smiling softly up at him! It was the first real expression he'd ever seen from her in the two months that she'd been here. Thranduil, his sadness momentarily forgotten, thought his heart would burst with gladness.  
"You smiled!" Thranduil said, placing his free hand on the child's cheek. He laughed and swept Talar into his arms. "Oh it is good to see you smile little one."

Suddenly, Talar froze in his arms. The smile fell from her face as if it had never been there. She turned her face to look down the empty hallway. Thranduil could feel her heart start to thud in her chest.

"What is it little one?" Even as he asked the question, Thranduil heard the light patter of running footsteps. A guard came running around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of his King. Thranduil slowly set Talar on the floor and looked at the white face of the soldier in front of him.

"Your Majesty!" The guard said, out of breath, as he bowed hastily. "We, we… The orcs. Dol Guldur. They-" The flustered guard was cut off when horns blared in the distance.

"We are under attack!"

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A/N: Wow my first cliffhanger. I feel kind of evil. But only a little. Sorry about the long wait guys, I hope this chapter will tie you over for a while. I'm going to be busy these next few weeks with school, work, soccer, and college applications. Try to bear with me.

Happy reading,

Heart's Whisper


	7. The Hour of the King

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything more than what I owned the last time I updated.

**A/N:** So I bet you all thought that I'd abandoned this story. Well, to be quite honest with you, so did I. I let this story sit for long that I figured that I could just let it fade away. And I almost did. But then little Talar began to occupy my mind more and more. She wouldn't leave me alone. She wants me to tell her story. I gave in to her demands and finally wrote chapter 6. I hope some of you out there are still reading this.

**Chapter Six**

'One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.'

Pivot.

Turn.

Talar's eyes followed Thranduil's jerky movements.

'One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.'

Pivot.

Turn.

The king had been pacing for hours. Scouts had brought back word of fierce battle on the front lines. Dol Guldur had been unleashed on the wood elves. It was the second day of battle and the orcs showed no sign of slowing. Thranduil continued his pacing.

'One. Two. Three. Four. Fi-'

A small hand clamped around Thranduil's large one. He looked down into Talar's dark blue eyes as she blinked slowly up at him. "What is it, little one?" He asked softly, his ears straining to hear any sound of a returning scout. He needed more information about the ensuing battle. He needed the number of fighting troops. He needed the number of wounded elves. He needed the number of dea-.

Talar tugged on Thranduil's hand. He tried again to focus on her pale face. Her lips turned upward ever so slightly. The tenseness in Thranduil stance receded faintly.

"Is that a smile for me, little one?"

Talar blinked her cerulean eyes at him slowly and held Thranduil's hand with both of hers.

The peace of the moment was shattered by the sound of running footsteps. A harried looking scout appeared at the doorway to Thranduil's study, hastily wiping blood off his face from a nasty looking wound on his forehead.

The scout hurriedly bowed to his king and said in a breathless voice, "Your Majesty. They… Orcs have set fire to the trees. The forest is burning… Their numbers have increased. We… the lines… they are breaking, my lord."

Thranduil's eyes hardened and his mouth set in a grim line. "Find any elf in the vicinity who is able to weald a blade or shoot a bow. Have them armored ready to fight in an hour. When you have done that, ready my horse. Now is the hour when the king of the wood elves rides forth into battle."

"Yes, my lord."

"Wait."

Thranduil's personal bodyguard, Githaen, suddenly appeared in the doorway of Thranduil's study, holding one bloody arm firmly to his chest. When the fighting had begun, Thranduil had sent him to help with the troops. Githaen stood wearily before his king, his silver armor stained dark with blood and green his eyes filled with worry.

"With all due respect, my lord, I do not believe that riding into battle is the best idea. If you were to fall-"

Thranduil interrupted in deceptively quiet voice. "I will not fall! I go into battle now when the people of my kingdom need me most. I cannot sit idly by while my people fight and die. I go to them to offer them hope. I am no healer, so I cannot help with the wounded. I am no weapon's master, so I cannot fix broken shields or craft new bows." Thranduil's narrowed his icy eyes at Githaen. "I am a warrior, Githaen. And you would do well to remember it."

"I have not forgotten, my lord." Githaen said softly.

"Peledain." Thranduil said to the suddenly very nervous scout. "Have my horse readied and see to it that all able elves are armored and ready to move out the moment I give the order to march."

"Yes, my lord." Peledain bowed and walked quickly from the room.

"Githaen." Thranduil turned to his oldest and most trusted friend and bodyguard. "I give to you another, very important task." Thranduil placed his hand on Githaen's broad shoulder. "You must keep her safe."

"My lord?" Githaen asked, brows rising in confusion.

"Talar?" Thranduil said, surveying the room for her small form.

When Thranduil's voice had turned hard and menacing, Talar had hidden herself beneath Thranduil's large desk. When Thranduil had called Talar's name, she tentatively peeked out from her hiding place.

"Come, little one." Thranduil said, holding out a hand for her to take.

Talar came to him slowly, her eyes huge in her pale face. She held her doll clutched tightly in her hand and looked up at him imploringly.

"You must keep her safe Githaen." Thranduil said, his eyes never leaving Talar's.

"My lord!" Githaen exclaimed indignantly. "My place is by your side! You can find another to keep her safe-"

"Githaen." Thranduil turned tired eyes to his friend. "You must do this for me. I do not command you as your king. I ask you as your friend."

Githaen glanced down at the dark haired elfling clutching Thranduil's hand tightly.

"Talar." Thranduil said, kneeling in front of her. "Why don't you go get a book from your room and Githaen will read it to you." Talar blinked slowly at him but did not move from her place at the king's side. She swiftly leaned up, wrapped her arms around Thranduil's neck and lightly pressed her lips to his smooth cheek.

The small child then stepped back, looked at Thranduil one last time, and ran quickly from the room.

"You _must_ keep her safe Githaen." Thranduil said, rising from his keeling position. "If things begin to go badly, you have to get her out of here. Take her to Lorien where the Lady can keep her safe." Thranduil looked at Githaen, his ageless eyes, for once, unguarded.

And in those regal eyes, Githaen saw fear. Fear for his people; fear for his kingdom; fear for his son. He saw weariness of forever battling the growing darkness. Githaen looked into his friend's tired eyes and saw pain. He saw a pain so burdensome any lesser elf would have been crushed beneath the sheer weight of it.

But Githaen also saw something more.

He saw hope that came from a strong love.

Githaen saw a love so deep for this land, these elves, and this kingdom, that he knew Thranduil would do all in his power to fight the darkness back once more. Even if that meant sacrificing himself. Githaen looked into his king's intense blue gaze and saw a fierceness that promised to destroy whatever force came against his kingdom. Githaen looked into his king's icy stare and almost felt sorry for the army that dared to challenge the wood elf king. Almost.

Githaen nodded and placed his arm on his old friend's shoulder. "I will do this for you my old friend. But if you get yourself killed, I shall never forgive you." He said, a grim smile adorning his face.

Thranduil grinned and said mischievously, "I don't believe that you would be of any help in this fight anyway, Githaen." At Githaen's raised eyebrow, Thranduil said, "Do not think that I have not noticed the way you have held your arm close to your chest. Not to mention the fact that you have been dripping blood onto the floor from that ugly gash on you arm."

Githaen's green eyes widened and he quickly glanced at the floor behind him. Sure enough, there were small blood drops leading from the door to where he now stood in front of Thranduil.

The king's deep laugh resonated through the room. Githaen glanced at him questioningly.

"You looked so surprised, my friend." Thranduil said by way of explanation. "Did you truly not notice that you are bleeding so freely that your arm is probably numb?"

Githaen glanced at his arm and remembered watching in fascinated horror as an orc's blade bit deep into his sword arm.

"Well, now that you mention it…" Githaen said and winced as pain lanced up his arm.

Thranduil smiled at his friend. "Go and get it bandaged. I must ready myself for battle." He said, his voice hardening and smile fading.

Githaen knew from that tone of voice that Thranduil was the king once more and his life-long friend was once more hidden beneath the royal exterior.

"Yes, my lord." Githaen said. He bowed once more to his king and left the study to find a healer.

Thranduil stood for a moment, thinking of the battle to come. He could already feel the old familiar fire battle brought to his veins. He welcomed the warmth heating up his blood, knowing from experience that it would energize him in the hours ahead.

A servant came into the room, heavily laden with all of Thranduil's armor. The servant bowed and laid the armor on Thranduil's already cluttered desk. At his questioning glance the servant said quickly, "The whole palace knows you go to aid our forces, my lord. I thought you might need all this."

Thranduil allowed a small smile to grace his features as the servant scurried from the room. He threw off his royal robes, silk shirt, and thin trousers and swiftly donned thick brown trousers and a sturdy shirt. He took up heavy silver chain mail and put it on over the white shirt. As the heavy garment settled over his broad shoulders, his mind wandered over various battle strategies.

As he mechanically put on the rest of the armor, a pale face flashed before his mind's eye. A beautiful face with bright blue eyes and long golden hair. Thranduil's motions stilled. His wife's laughing face filled his mind, banishing his thoughts of evil, of darkness, and of the gruesome battle to come. The light of her eyes expelled all bleak thought from him and filled him with warmth.

Thranduil closed his suddenly teary eyes and allowed himself the sweet torture of remembering his wife's stunning face. In his mind, he reached out a hand to her and lightly traced the contour of her soft cheek. An overwhelming sense of loneliness overwhelmed him and he almost collapsed.

A whisper of a long ago memory filled the king's sharp ears. "Never alone." It said. Thranduil looked again into his memories of his beloved wife. Her memory smiled softly at him. "Never alone."

Thranduil smiled in return, opened his eyes, and wiped the tears from his cheeks. His eyes landed upon Talar, who was standing just inside the doorway, her doll clutched tightly in her arms. Thranduil knelt and opened his arms. Without hesitating, Talar ran across the room, and without a care for his hard shining armor, flung herself into his arms.

"We are not alone anymore, little one. And we will never be alone again." Thranduil hugged the small elfling closer and kissed the top of her head.

Talar looked up at the blonde elf who had been so nice to her and smiled brightly.

"You have a beautiful smile Talar." Thranduil said, softly touching a dimple on her cheek.

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. Thranduil and Talar slowly broke from their embrace and looked at Githaen.

"Your horse is ready my lord." Githaen said quietly. "The reinforcements are ready to ride at your command."

Thranduil nodded and hugged Talar one last time. "I'll come back to you, little one. I promise."

Talar blinked slowly up at him.

Thranduil stood, belted on his large sword, shouldered his quiver full of arrows, and grasped his long bow. As he passed out of the room, he laid his hand on Githaen's uninjured arm.

"Remember what I said to you, my friend. If things go badly-"

"They will not go badly, Thranduil." Githaen said in a fierce whisper. "You will return to us. You will be here the day Legolas comes home and you _will_ welcome him with open arms. And you _will_ come back and hug that small elfling once more." He said, gesturing to Talar who stood forlornly behind Thranduil. "She will not survive another loss Thranduil. You must return. We all need you."

Thranduil smiled slightly and after one last glance at Talar, he strode from the room.

'I will defeat this darkness.' Thranduil said to himself. 'I will not leave Talar to deal with another loss or Legolas with an empty home to return to.'

Thranduil's mouth settled into a hard line. He would return. And when he did, his forest would be rid of this foul darkness once and for all.

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**A/N:** OKAY! Well guys this was the longest chapter that I've written yet. I hope you have all enjoyed it! It took me forever, I know. And I'm really sorry for it. I hope those of you who decide to read this are happy that I've finally updated. I'll try to get another chapter up soon. No guarantees though.

Happy reading!

Heart's Whisper.


	8. Bleak Thoughts

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing…

**AN:** So I know this has been a LONG time in coming. But summer is just around the corner for me so updates will be more regular. I graduate from high school next week so I will have some extra time on my hands. Sorry this took me forever and I sincerely hope that I haven't lost any of you fabulous readers out there. I switch back and forth between Thranduil and Talar in this chapter. Hope it's not confusing. Happy reading!

HW

**Chapter 7**

Thranduil rode quickly through the palace gates, a squad of 300 elves riding stoically behind him. A crowd had gathered to see their king and warriors off. Thranduil dared not search the somber assembly for fear of seeing one small pale face with haunting blue eyes filled with fear. The king kept his eyes resolutely forward and so did not see Talar. She stood alone on the top of the palace steps, dark hair billowing about her in the late afternoon wind. No tears filled her expressive eyes, but a great fear filled her heart.

Would she lose another companion close to her? Would she ever see the kind blue eyes of the elf that had pulled her from the darkness again? Talar bit her lip to keep familiar pain at bay. Her small hands began to tremble as her heart started to ache.

'He promised that he would come back.' She thought to herself. 'He promised her would!'

Githaen stood behind the small elfling and watched as her small form began to shake with silent sobs. His heart went out to the young soul that had already endured so much in such a small span of years.

Now, Githaen was not the most tender-hearted of elves. He'd grown up with King Thranduil and had seen his share of horrors and black deeds. Some called him callous and unfeeling and most tried to avoid him all together. He gave off an unnerving aura that made some elves uneasy. It took much to touch the heart of the hardened warrior that Githaen had become. But the sight of the small elfling standing alone caused him great sorrow. Talar stood before him in a white dress, black hair blowing wildly about her now tear streaked face. And Githaen did something he had never done before. He reached out to comfort a small grieving child.

_(Thranduil- Early Evening)_

Thranduil and his warriors rode at a brisk pace through the dark forest of Mirkwood. The silence of the place was eerie and made some of the younger soldiers nervous. I was as if the forest as a whole had drawn a deep breath and waited to see what outcome the battle would bring.

A few spiders crouched in the shadows, ever ready to pounce on an unwary traveler. They hissed at each other to mount an attack but froze when they saw who rode at the head of the column of elves. The king made a fearful site indeed. On top of his silver war stallion Thranduil rode. On his noble brow sat a thin gold circlet and it shone with a kingly light. His countenance was fierce as his keen eyes scanned the trees about him. Those sharp eyes narrowed when they landed on one of the huge spiders. The creature hissed quietly and recoiled as if burned by the heat of the king's stare.

Thranduil grit his teeth. He longed to rid his forest of the evil creatures that dwelt in it. And he vowed to himself that one day he would make Mirkwood green again.

'This is the first step.' He thought. 'My army will drive back the filthy orcs of Sauron to the darkness they've come from. And then we shall drive out the spiders and fill this forest with light once more.'

_(Talar- Same Evening)_

Talar sat listlessly in her room, staring out her small window at the stream below. Githaen had brought her dinner and she had not touched it. After a few attempts of trying to get her to eat, he'd left her with her thoughts.

And her thoughts were bleak.

No matter how hard she tried to focus on something else, her mind kept replaying the memory of her parent's deaths. She couldn't help but wonder if that's what would happen to the elf that she now considered a friend. He would not die too, would he? He couldn't, he just couldn't. He promised her that he would come back. He wouldn't break that promise, would he?

And then a dark and unwanted thought entered Talar's already forlorn reflections.

Hadn't her parents also promised that they'd always be there for her? Talar gasped and covered her face with her suddenly icy hands. She rocked herself back and forth, back and forth, desperately trying to keep that pain away.

Githaen knocked quietly on Talar's door. When there was no answer he cracked open the door, only to find his young charge quietly crying on the window seat. He paused, unused to such intense displays of emotion.

Githaen cleared his throat. "Now, now Talar, all is not lost. The king is a very good fighter. There is no need to fear." Githaen tried his best to believe his own words but they sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Talar looked up at the stocky bodyguard, large alligator tears still adorning her pale cheeks. She bit her lip in a feeble attempt to stifle her sobs.

Githaen glanced at Talar's still full dinner plate. "You are not hungry, young one?"

Talar lowered her eyes to the floor and shoved her hands in her lap.

"No? Hmmm…" Githaen racked his brain for something to say to fill in the awkward silence that filled the room. He needed some way to keep the little elfling's mind off of any distressing thoughts of battle. Suddenly a brilliant thought entered his mind.

"Talar, has King Thranduil ever taken you to see the royal stables?"

Talar's eyes stayed locked on the floor.

"No? Well, he has done you a great injustice."

At this, the young elfling looked sharply at Githaen and narrowed her dark eyes.

Githaen smiled slightly at Talar's display of loyalty. "One of the mares just gave birth to a gorgeous foal. Would you like to have a look?"

Talar cocked her head and considered the elf in front of her. She _really _looked at him for the first time since arriving at the palace. The bodyguard was shorter than most elves, but what he lacked in height he made up for in strength. With bulging muscles in his arms, chest, and legs, Githaen truly cut an imposing figure. His face, like all elves, was fair to look upon with defined cheek bones and pointed ears. His dark brown hair and dark green eyes made him look even more intimidating. But looking past all that, Talar saw something else. There were faint laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. His hands, though calloused from constant battle and hard work, had a certain elegant quality about them.

Githaen endured the elfling's intense scrutiny, trying very hard to keep his mirth contained. Talar inspected him as if she were a commander in the army and he was some new recruit. Despite himself, Githaen allowed a smile to grace his lips.

"Well young one," Githaen chuckled. "Do you wish to see the foal or not?"

Talar blinked slowly and walked over to the door, Githaen smiled and followed her into the hall. The two began walking down the corridor and they made quite a pair to look upon. Githaen, with his stocky build, sword at his hip, and long swinging stride dwarfed the slight frame of Talar. She hurried to keep up with him, long hair swinging behind her, and her small doll clutched tightly in her hands.

_(Thranduil- Night)_

The sun had long since set behind the trees of the forest and still Thranduil pushed his warriors on. If the reports were as bad as the scout, Peledain, had suggested, they did not have time for rest. If they kept up this pace, they should arrive at the battle sight by mid-morning the next day.

"My lord," an experienced soldier called quietly.

"What is it Clandir?" Thranduil whispered just as quietly. They did not want to draw unwanted attention to themselves.

"Do you smell it, my lord?" The old elf said, glancing slowly at his king.

Thranduil closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trusting his horse to lead him steadily. He smelled horses, the earth, the sharp pine of the trees and the faint smell of an oncoming storm. And there, so weak he barely detect it, was the ominous smell of smoke. The king opened his eyes once more, anger made them shine like a beacon, and vengeance simmered in their depths.

"Spread it quietly among the ranks that our beloved forest is on fire. Let it be known that now it the time we ride forth to rid our home from this ever growing shadow.' The intensity of Thranduil's words kindled a fire in Clandir's soul. He turned his mount quickly and did as his king commanded.

Soon the smell of smoke filled the keen noses of all 300 warriors. The anger that burned in Thranduil's heart was soon mirrored in the hearts of the wood elf soldiers. The elven steeds, sensing their rider's need for swiftness, picked up their pace.

They rode for hours. Never once did one elf call for a break. Never once did a horse falter. And never once did the king's thoughts deviate from the task at hand. The unit rode with a single minded intensity: to destroy the black army that had so foolishly invaded their boarders.


	9. Battle Preparations and a Past

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. But if anyone wants to sell me the rights to Legolas I would be more than happy to have him.

**A/N: **It's been a long time, my friends. And I have no excuse. I humbly beg you for your forgiveness and hope that this chapter makes you all happy again. Memories are in italics.

**Chapter 8**

**(On the outskirts of Southern Mirkwood- Day)**

War is a gruesome thing. Innocents die in the crossfire. Warriors die young. Screams…Blood…Death. Where does it end? Is it over when all troops are dead and the last soldier standing declares into the silence, "I win?" During a bloody struggle between two men, does one of them ever wonder if the person they are fighting is truly evil? And what about when one army wins; is that it? Does the army turn around and go back to where they came from? Or do they continue their bloody march to the next town or village and massacre those living there too? And when the war is over and the fighting done, what then? Veterans find themselves waking in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, the screams of the dead echoing in their ears. Soldiers are forever changed by the things they have seen, by the experiences they have lived through. War…

These were the thoughts of the wood elf king as he surveyed the healer's tents. Many of the Mirkwood warriors were stretched out on makeshift cots, bloody bandages wrapped hastily about wounds. The king and the rest of the 300 soldiers he'd brought with him had arrived early that morning at the makeshift command center. After meeting briefly with the commanders, he'd gone to see how the wounded were faring.

The King slowly made his rounds through the tent, offering comforting words to each soldier he passed.

Thranduil's heart skipped a beat when his eyes landed upon Tathlogar, the young captain who had saved little Talar months ago. He lay on his back on a cot, shirtless. Large bandages wrapped tightly about his midsection, right shoulder, and lower left arm. Adorning his left eye was a large purple bruise that covered half his face.

'You've taken quite a beating, young one." Thranduil said quietly as he took a seat on the edge of the cot.

Tathlogar opened his right eye, the other had swollen completely shut, and nodded his head at the king.

"Aye, my lord." A smile formed at the corners of his wide mouth. "But the brutes cheated." He stated matter of factly. "They separated me from my group and surrounded me. Don't worry though, sire," He quipped, eyes twinkling. "I'm not better than Legolas with my sword for nothing. I took care of them."

"But those _brutes_, as you so fondly call the orcs, obviously got in a few blows of their own." Thranduil said, smiling warmly at his son's friend.

"Yes they did my lord." A new voice said from behind Thranduil.

Mythiall, a soldier from Tathlogar's patrol, bowed respectfully to the king and produced fresh bandages from the sack in his hands.

"It is time to change them again Tathlogar." He said, gesturing at the bandages Tathlogar already wore. "And if I had not come and saved this foolish elf's hide, you would have had one less captain, my lord." Mythiall said, turning toward Thranduil with an expression of gloating on his face.

"Watch it soldier," Tathlogar said with a grin. "I am still your commander and as soon as I am out of this bed, I will make sure you do not forget it."

Thranduil smiled at the verbal banter between the young elves. It heartened him to know that moral was still high among the troops. He quietly excused himself and made for the commander's meeting tent. There was work to be done.

For most of that long night, the king and his commanders pored over reports, planned strategies, and readied themselves for the climax of the battle between the orcs of Sauron and the wood elves of Mirkwood. The King himself, and any soldiers that could lift a sword or carry a bow, would move toward the front lines at dawn and join the battle raging there. And it would be a bloody battle indeed.

**(Mirkwood Place- Same Day)**

Talar stood shyly in front of a stall door in the royal stables. She'd become enchanted with the foal Githaen had shown her two days ago. He was gold in color, with a mane, tale, and legs colored black as night.

Talar peeked cautiously around the stall door and looked upon the young horse and his mother. He was still shaky on his long legs and Talar giggled quietly as he stumbled around. The foal, hearing Talar's soft laugh, turned towards her and thrust his small head at her. She backed up, unsure of what to do, and glanced about to see if anyone had entered the stables. All was quiet.

Talar slowly approached the little foal and held out her hand. He sniffed cautiously, his nose tickling her palm. The foal sneezed suddenly and covered Talar's hand in sticky goo. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hand on a nearby horse blanket. The playful newborn neighed triumphantly at her and Talar, feeling as if she was being laughed at, stuck her tongue out at him.

And that was how Githaen found them- Talar, standing with her hands on her hips pointing her tongue at the foal, and the small horse bouncing his head up and down and neighing shrilly. Githaen bit back his laughter.

"Well it looks as if the two of you are getting along nicely." Githaen said, glancing between the two. Talar turned to him and hastily put her tongue back where it belonged. The foal, on the other hand, was still feeling mischievous and nudged Talar's shoulder. She almost lost her balance and scowled darkly at the horse.

Githaen smiled. "You should name him, little one." He said softly. Talar pursed her lips and looked at the small foal intently.

Githaen waited with bated breath. In the months that Talar had been at the palace, she had not uttered a single word. He hoped to trick her into saying _something_. His wish, however, was not granted.

Talar simply gave the horse a very stern look and settled her hands back on her hips. The young horse whickered at her and went to feed from his mother. Talar stood quite still for a moment, gazing at the newborn and his mother with a thoughtful expression on her oval face. Githaen watched nervously as Talar's expressive eyes slowly glazed over. Her mind was suddenly focused on a very clear memory of her father.

_Talar and her father were grooming her father's sleek blue-gray horse, Bruinon._

_"Someday, young one, you will have a horse of your own." He'd said. "And maybe, if you are lucky, that horse will become a loyal friend who can take you to distant, far off lands."_

_"Will you and Naneth come with me, Ada?" She'd asked, gazing at her father with love in her eyes._

_"Aye, little jewel. We shall be with you. You will never be alone." Her father said._

_"Do you promise?" _

_Talar's father stopped what he was doing and knelt in front of his daughter. He placed his calloused hands on either side of Talar's porcelain face and vowed, "I promise." He kissed her nose affectionately. "Now come. Your Naneth will be angry if we do not hurry. She has dinner waiting for us."_

Talar shook herself out of the memory. The wetness on her cheeks surprised her. She lifted cold fingers to her face to brush at the tears there. She was dimly aware that Githaen was watching her closely. She quickly bowed her head and let her curtain of black hair shield her face.

Githaen was no fool. He'd watched as Talar's face had slowly paled. He'd seen her eyes loose focus and darken with pain. He'd felt fear enter his heart when he had not answered when he'd called her name. Githaen slowly walked over to her and sat down so that his back leaned against the stall door. Talar kept her hair between them.

"You know something, young one? We are not so very different, you and I." Githaen stretched his legs out in front of him and let his head rest against the stall door. He shut his eyes and let images of the past roll over him. "My family lived in a village on the outskirts of Mirkwood too. I had two much older brothers and an older sister. My father and mother were very much in love. I'd wake up every morning to my mother's singing or my brothers laughing. I never knew fear, or anger, or hate… Or sadness." Githaen paused and let the peace of his childhood memories enfold him. Talar conquered her fears and sat down beside him. Githaen barely noticed. His eyes were still closed as his mind wandered through anther time, another place.

"But one day I grew to know fear." Githaen's voice changed and grew colder. The orcs came in the night. My father woke first. He'd noticed the abnormal silence of the forest. He'd felt the uneasy stirring of the trees. Quietly he woke the rest of us. My brothers knew how to fight. My sister too. It took but five minutes and we were armed. But I was too young. I was much, much too young. My mother and father looked at each other and communicated a thousand words with that single glance. And before I knew it, my mother and I were running silently through the dark night." Githaen's brows knit with remembered horror.

"My mother soon heard the orc's loud footsteps and we both climbed high into the nearest tree. She held me in her arms and sang quiet songs in my ear. I tried to ask her what was going on but she just kept telling me to be brave.

"It was not long before the first screams rent the air. Minutes faded into hours and just when I thought I would go mad, everything went eerily quiet. Dawn approached and the sky lightened. Soon I heard my father and one of my brothers calling softly for us. But I was confused. They were calling for my oldest brother and my sister too." Again, Githaen paused. His hands clenched into tight fists as Talar listened to his gruesome story. Foreboding filled her heart as he took a deep breath and continued.

"My mother and I painstakingly climbed down from the tree. My mother asked in a hesitant voice where her other children were. And when I heard my father's answer, I grew to know sadness too. He said that he'd sent my sister and eldest brother after us when the fighting started to die down. The villagers had pushed the orcs back and the town was safe. Were they not with us? He'd asked urgently. They had not come? My mother just shook her head as tears began to slide down her cheeks." Githaen's breath caught and a tear escaped his still closed eyes. "I remember my father promising to find them and my brother telling me to always be brave. And then they were gone. I never saw them again. In that hour I grew to know anger and I grew to know hate."

Githaen ended his story and took a deep breath to calm himself. H was startled and almost jumped when he felt a small hand come to rest on his own. He opened his eyes and looked at the small elfling kneeling next to him. Githaen was so lost in his own memories that he had forgotten that Talar was still there.

'He knows.' Talar thought silently. 'He knows this pain, this sadness.' Talar looked into Githaen's moss covered eyes and saw that her pain was reflected there. Perhaps not as pronounced, but it was there.

Githaen watched Talar watching him. He found that he was getting used to her intense stares. They sat in companionable silence for a time, the sounds and smells of the stable wrapping them in momentary peace.

'If he has lived with this ache in his heart, then so can I." Talar's lips compressed into a thin line and she nodded to herself. 'So can I.'

**A/N: **Okay… So that took me forever. Again, my apologies to all of you. Hopefully I will be able to begin writing again soon and give you more than a couple of updates a year. Sheez. I am disgusted with myself. Please accept my profound apologies and I hope all of you are well.

Happy reading,

Heart's Whisper


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